


Till the Moment I Found You

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: For Even a Day [4]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Royalty AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: The problem with planning a wedding, Race thinks, is that he has to have opinions on all kinds of things he has never thought about before and will probably never think about again. Thank god for the wedding planner, because if Elmer weren’t asking Race about this shit, it wouldn’t be getting done.
Relationships: Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & David Jacobs, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: For Even a Day [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705639
Comments: 18
Kudos: 98





	Till the Moment I Found You

**Author's Note:**

> See, I promised you a sweet happy fic and here I am! It's WEDDING TIME, KIDS.
> 
> I'm currently in wedding stress limbo myself, which is made all the worse by quarantine and the virus situation potentially affecting it (as of right now we're planning to go ahead as scheduled, but it's hard to know exactly what's going to happen in a month or two), so I just took some time to write about some characters in love and try to think positive. I hope you guys like this!

The problem with planning a wedding, Race thinks, is that he has to have opinions on all kinds of things he has never thought about before and will probably never think about again. Thank god for the wedding planner, because if Elmer weren’t _asking_ Race about this shit, it wouldn’t be getting done.

Colors, flowers, his own clothes, other people’s clothes, catering –

“I regret ever agreeing to get married,” Race says, draped across a couch in his brother’s room. “Don’t do it, Charlie, it’s a trap.”

Charlie laughs. “I thought you _liked_ Spot.”

“Yeah, but the world would be so much better if he an’ I could just elope or something,” says Race.

“Don’t even _think_ that,” says Charlie, still grinning. “Mama would kill you.”

“An’ Niamh would help, I’m sure,” Race replies. He groans theatrically, kicking his legs in the air before flopping them back onto the couch. “God, I can’t even work right now, because every time I try to work on calculations I just end up drifting back off into trying to remember the difference between lilac and lavender! Why color scheme can’t be Jack’s responsibility is a mystery to me. _He’s_ the artist.”

“I assume it has something to do with the fact that it’s your wedding, not Jackie’s,” says Charlie. “He already _did_ that, remember?”

“An’ he can’t take it upon himself to help his beloved baby brother?” Race whines.

“ _I’m_ his beloved baby brother,” Charlie points out. He pokes Race with his crutch. “ _You’re_ a pain in the ass.” He laughs. “Middle brothers don’t get shit.”

“I hate you,” says Race, without venom. “I’m gonna find somebody else to complain to, I don’t need’ta put up with this.”

“Sure as hell do,” says Charlie, “nobody else is gonna put up with you. You think Day wants to hear about your wedding troubles? Jackie?”

“Jack would have sympathy for me and not sass.”

“You are deluding yourself.”

“Davey loves me.”

“Not that much.”

“Kitty –“

“Is busy.”

“Les?”

“I cannot begin to articulate how little Les would want to hear about your wedding.”

Race curls up, pulling his legs to his chest and rolling onto his side to look at Charlie. “I wish Spot were actually here.”

“Sorry, Racer,” Charlie says, teasing giving way to actual sympathy. “You know he’d be here if he could.”

“I’m gonna run away to Brooklyn and hide at the Conlon estate for a week,” Race announces dramatically. “I never want to see Elmer again.”

“That’s not a kind thing to say, Elmer’s very nice,” Charlie says. “You’re just missin’ your man.”

“Yeah,” Race admits. “Yeah, I do.”

“He’ll be back soon,” says Charlie. “And then it’ll be wedding time and you’ll move to Brooklyn and _abandon your baby brother.”_

Race laughs. “Yeah, yeah, okay, heard. What was it you wanted to do again?”

“Elaborate prank on our dumbass brother, duh,” says Charlie. “It’s been ages.”

“You have my attention,” says Race. “What’cha thinkin’?”

“Well, if we can get Day on board –“

\--

It’s been a long time since Race has taken a day to just goof off with his little brother, and by the time he falls into bed that night he’s thoroughly exhausted, but happy.

It won’t be long before easy days of hanging out with Charlie are a half day’s journey away.

Race is looking forward to moving to Brooklyn, he is, but he can admit at least to himself that it’s a little bittersweet. Spot is head of his family, and Race is _his_ family’s spare, so there wasn’t ever a discussion of where they’d live after the wedding besides a joke or two thrown around before they were even really committed to being engaged. Race doesn’t regret being engaged to Spot one tiny bit, and he doesn’t regret the move.

But he’s going to miss his brothers. Even Jack, who’s occasionally a bit of a dick. Maybe especially Jack.

He’s going to miss Katherine, who’s been around so long – long before she and Jack married – it’d be hard to consider her anything but a sister.

He’s going to miss the Jacobses, especially Davey. He and Davey will still be working together, like they always have, but it just won’t be the same without being able to burst into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night when they’ve had an epiphany about how to solve a problem.

(Not, he supposes, that Spot would love that habit continuing if they were living in the castle.)

He’ll miss his friends, even though Albert’s less inclined to go along with his chaotic shenanigans now that they’ve grown up some.

He doesn’t even realize he’s up and walking again until he finds himself outside his mother’s door. He knocks three times, but it’s late. There’s no way Mama’s still up.

He’s just about to go back to his own room when the door opens. Mama’s in her pajamas with a robe on top, but Race is pretty sure he didn’t wake her. She takes one good look at him and pulls him into a hug.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks.

Race, who would’ve denied up and down that anything was wrong at all to anyone else, bursts into tears. “I’ve got so many things to _decide_ and Spot’s not _here_ and I’m moving away and – and –“

“Oh, Tony,” Mama says softly. She runs her fingers through his hair. “Come in, sweetheart, tell me all about it.”

\--

The wedding is going to be in the expansive castle gardens. It’s the same place where Jack and Katherine were married, and even further back where Mama married Papa.

There’s a small ache in Race’s chest every time he thinks of that; he didn’t ever really know his father, he’d died when Race was a toddler and Charlie was a newborn, but there’s a strange sadness that comes from knowing he won’t be here for this.

Then again, neither of Spot’s parents will be here.

Race sighs, moving away from the window. He needs to finish getting ready for Spot and the girls, not mope about dead parents. They should be arriving in a few hours, and he isn’t even dressed.

He digs through his closet for one specific shirt – a light, soft blue one that Spot has said more than once is his favorite – and it seems like every shirt Race has ever worn is here _except_ that one.

“Are you looking for this?”

Race sticks his head out of the closet. Spot is standing in Race’s little sitting area, holding up a wad of blue fabric that can only be the shirt. He must’ve set it out last night and forgotten about it, but Race is more distracted by Spot, because – “You’re early!”

“I’m early,” Spot says, smiling. It’s a real smile, too, not a hint of teasing or sarcasm underneath it. “Aisling wasn’t feeling well last night, so the girls got a late start this morning. Nee said I should leave whenever I was ready, though, and they’d catch me up. When I was ready just _happened_ to be almost two hours earlier than we were planning to leave.”

“How anyone ever believed that show you put on of being a huge sourpuss is beyond me,” says Race, crossing the room in as few steps as possible so that he and Spot are facing each other. “You are the most ridiculous, romantic dork I’ve ever met in my life, and I grew up with Dave.”

Spot laughs, that bright, uncontrolled laugh that Race adores. “It’s all you, Racer. Ask anyone, I wasn’t like this before.”

“S’cause I’m perfect, i’nnit?” says Race. He grins, leaning in for a kiss, but Spot doesn’t meet him.

“You’re, uh –“ Spot holds the shirt out. His eyes are fixed on Race’s bare torso.

“You’re blushing,” Race observes. “What, Spotty, little skin too much for ya?”

“No,” says Spot, but he’s looking away now and his cheeks are getting redder by the second.

Race laughs. “Fine, fine.” He tugs the shirt out of Spot’s grip and pulls it over his head. “Will ya kiss me now?”

“Not if you’re gonna fuss about it,” Spot replies. Then he grabs a fistful of Race’s shirt and pulls him in for a bruising kiss.

“ _Fuck_ , Spot,” Race says when they’ve separated and he’s caught his breath again. “You can’t go from embarrassed to see me shirtless to kissin’ me like that in less than a minute. Ain’t fair to me.”

“I can and I will,” says Spot. He winks. “I’m full’a surprises.”

“You sure keep a fella guessing, that’s for sure,” says Race. He steals another quick kiss. “Dunno what to expect from our wedding night, that’s for sure.”

“An’ you ain’t gonna know till then, don’t push ya luck,” Spot says.

Race laughs. “God, Spot, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, sweetness.”

\--

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Do you want me to _leave_?”

“I didn’t say that,” Race says. He grabs Spot by the hand and pulls him through the door and into the room. He leads his fiancé toward the bed – “Just to cuddle, sweets, I promise!” – and they curl up together.

“You nervous?”

“Pssh, no.” Race strokes Spot’s exposed shoulder, staring up at the ceiling. “Are you?”

“Nervous, no,” says Spot. He shifts his head on Race’s shoulder so he can look at his face. “Not about marryin’ you, at least. But standin’ in front of everybody an’ all – that’s not really my scene, you know?”

Race chuckles. “No, I guess not. Although for all you say you ain’t a big gestures guy, you _did_ set up a complicated plot with my siblings to propose to me when we were already, strictly speaking, engaged.”

“ _You’re_ a big gestures guy,” Spot replies, completely unrepentant. “And anyway, that was different. Yeah it was a whole thing, but in the end it was just you an’ me an’ your sibs. Six, seven people? _Including_ us.”

“And this is a few hundred,” says Race, nodding. “Yeah, I gotcha.” He sighs, wiggling down the bed a little for a better angle against the pillows. Spot, who’s wrapped around him, makes a vague sound of protest but adjusts to the new position quickly. “You wanna know what Mama keeps telling me though?”

“Sure,” says Spot.

“The wedding could be a complete disaster. Everything could go wrong, and I could regret every decision I made with Elmer about what thing’s’ll look like, and Jack could give his speech drunk,” Race says. He finally turns his head away from the ceiling, to look at Spot’s face. “But at the end of the day, you and I will be married. And none of the rest of it will matter.”

“I’m not gonna lie, sweetness, I did _not_ know where you were going with that,” Spot admits.

“Yeah, I know, right?” says Race, laughing. “But, like, she’s right, y’know? I’ve been so stressed about choosin’ shit and moving an’ –“

“You’re stressed about moving?” Spot cuts in. He pushes up on his elbow to look more directly at Race’s face. “You never said.”

“On purpose,” Race replies. “C’mon, lie back down, sweets. You’re missing the point.”

“The point is we’re gonna be married, which is amazing,” says Spot, rolling his eyes. “But it also means I’m allowed to care about you, dumbass. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good about the move?”

“’Cause I’m _not_ not feeling good about it,” Race says. He frowns. “Spot, seriously, lay back down, you’re stressin’ me out.”

Spot narrows his eyes, but does eventually settle back onto Race’s chest. “You’re deflecting.”

“All my life, I’ve been just down the hall from Jack and Charlie,” Race says quietly, after a long pause. “Just up the stairs from Mama. A wing away from Daves and Sarah.” He sighs, his head falling back against the pillow. “Ain’t that I don’t wanna move, Sean. S’just gonna be weird.”

“I didn’t even realize, Tony, I’m sorry,” Spot says, his voice a scratchy whisper. “I’d be a wreck if I were leaving the girls. I should’ve known.”

“You ain’t a mind reader,” says Race. “I didn’t _expect_ you to know. I didn’t really want’cha to know, either, if I’m being honest. Don’t want’cha thinkin’ I’ve got cold feet.”

Spot touches Race’s foot with his own – they’re both barefoot, and Spot’s toes are _freezing_. Race yelps, which draws one of those beautiful laughs from Spot.

“Nope,” Spot says, still laughing, “they feel pretty warm to me.”

\--

Niamh Conlon wakes Race up the morning of his wedding.

This was not the plan.

The plan was that in about three hours, Jack and Dave and Charlie and Les were going to come and start getting ready with him. Race, knowing his brothers, is well aware that this plan means that Jack is planning to burst into the room and tackle him to wake him up.

And yet, for some reason, Niamh throws his door open at fucking _dawn_ , shouting at the top of her lungs. “Racetrack Manhattan, where the _fuck_ is my brother?”

Ah, yeah, okay. That’s fair.

Spot curls tighter around Race, his left leg hooking around Race’s. He mumbles, “M’cold.”

“Yeah, sweets,” Race whispers. “We fell asleep on top of the covers.”

“S’loud.”

“It’s Nee.”

“I know.”

_“Race_ ,” Niamh says, still by the door and sounding dangerous. “I know he’s here.”

Spot groans and rolls away from Race, poking his head over the elaborate footboard of the bed to look at his sister. “Niamh, the sun ain’t up yet.”

“Yeah, so picture my surprise when I get up to use the bathroom and realize you’re not in your bed,” Niamh replies, and when Race crawls down to the end of the bed to join Spot he sees that her arms are crossed tight across her chest. “Come _on_ , boys, you couldn’t wait one more day?”

“God, Nee,” says Spot. He gives Race a quick kiss on the cheek then slides off of the bed. “Could’ja not?”

“Look, Spot, I don’t _want_ to be in a position to know about your sex life any more than you want me to –“

“ _Niamh!”_

“- so _don’t put me in that position_ ,” Niamh finishes. “We’re going back to the room. Race, we’ll see you later.”

With that, she grabs Spot’s wrist and drags him out of the room. Race falls back onto his pillows with a laugh. _Hell of a start to the day._ If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to get a few more hours’ sleep before he has to be up and active.

Race doesn’t remember falling asleep again, but before he knows it he’s waking up to the abrupt and heavy weight of two fully grown bodies falling onto him while two more voices laugh a few feet away. “Ah, guys!”

“Our little boy’s all grown up,” Jack says, pushing up on his hands and then dramatically throwing his weight across Race’s torso again. “Davey, he’s getting _married_.”

“I know, Jackie-mine, I can’t believe it,” Davey replies, just as dramatically. He landed more on Race’s legs, but he slings an arm across Jack’s shoulders.

Les and Charlie are still howling with laughter, holding onto each other and trying to catch their breath. Race rolls his eyes and waves them over. “C’mon. Might as well join the pile, since these two ain’t clearin’ out any time soon.”

“If you insist,” says Charlie. He makes a show of setting his crutches aside, and Les helps him up onto Race’s (honestly unnecessarily tall) mattress, then both younger boys launch themselves forward onto Race, Jack, and Davey. It fully knocks the wind out of Race, and he has to wiggle out from under his pile of brothers to catch his breath again, but he couldn’t even begin to complain.

“Hey, Racer,” Charlie says, voice the picture of innocence which usually spells trouble for Race. “Did Spot sleep here last night?”

There’s a near unison “ _What?”_ from the other three, and Jack hauls Race into an upright seated position so they can all see his face.

“What could possibly have given you that impression?” Race says, going for a nonchalant tone and falling somewhere closer to squeaky. His face is burning, he knows he’s bright red, and the worst part is that he really has nothing to be embarrassed by – yeah, Spot was here, but they hadn’t _done_ anything.

“Oh my god,” says Les. “He _was!”_ He elbows Charlie. “Crutch, how’d’ja know?”

“My rooms’re right across the hall,” Charlie says, grinning. “And Niamh Conlon was here before the sun lookin’ for’im.”

Race laughs. “You heard her?”

“A’course I heard her!” says Charlie. He shoves Race by the shoulder. “S’a miracle the whole fuckin’ castle didn’t hear her!”

Davey and Jack exchange a look that can only mean _I didn’t hear her, did you?_ while Les positively cackles.

“And did she find him here?” Davey says, one eyebrow raised.

“I – yeah.”

“Fuck, Racer, couldn’t wait one more night?” says Jack, dodging the pillow that Race throws at him.

“It wasn’t like that!” Race protests. “We talked!”

“Oh, yeah, you _talked_ ,” Les teases. Race kicks him.

“Don’t kick my baby brother, Race,” Davey scolds lazily. He’s still mostly laying down, but now that Race and Jack are sitting up he’s put his head in Jack’s lap.

Race flicks the side of his face. “Tell your brother to stop makin’ fun’a me.”

“I can’t do that,” says Davey. “You totally deserve this.”

“Fine,” says Race, and he kicks Davey, too.

“Hey!” Jack swats at Race in defense of Davey.

Charlie, who has wisely removed himself from the situation somewhat by scooting clear to the foot of the bed, says, “Maybe we oughtta start gettin’ ready, ‘stead’a climbin’ all over each other like kids.”

“ _Ugh_ , fine,” says Jack.

\--

Elmer the wedding planner has the day running like a well-oiled machine; he’s given them a list of things Race needs to do and places Race needs to be and Davey has put himself in charge of making sure that it all happens to schedule. So before any of them know it, they’re dressed and styled and it’s _time_.

The actually ceremony is a bit of a blur.

All Race knows for sure is that he’s looking at Spot and Spot looks stunning. Spot’s smiling at him, looking just a little nervous about the crowd but so genuinely happy that Race wants to cry. Spot is usually a rock, he doesn’t show what he’s thinking or feeling at all, but today he’s shifting a little foot to foot, looking a little anxious but mostly excited. It reminds Race of the day Spot proposed – the soft, nervous smile he’d given Race, the slightly shaky voice, the hesitant kiss.

Spot doesn’t hesitate today.

“Hey, sweetness,” he whispers, his forehead resting against Race’s and his voice low so no one else will hear, “we’re married.”

It takes every ounce of willpower that Race has not to reply _holy shit_ full-voiced. Spot seems to see that in his eyes, though, and he laughs. It’s not a full volume laugh, more of a giggle honestly, strange as it feels for Race to apply that word to Spot Conlon. They separate after that, their hands entwined, and turn to face their families.

Between the ceremony and the reception, Spot and Race are given a few minutes alone. For the rest of the day, they will be everyone else’s, with a thousand people to talk to and dance with and be around, so it’s a long standing tradition to carve out a little bit of time for the newlyweds to be together and alone and _married_ before they have to face the world.

“Sweets!” Race says, throwing his arms around Spot’s – _his husband’s –_ neck. “Holy shit!”

Spot laughs. “I know, right?”

“Okay, okay, wait – look, we don’t have a ton of time before they’ll want us again,” says Race. He fusses with the curls below his ear, having sworn up and down he wouldn’t ruin his hair but he can’t resist fidgeting a little. “I want to – I know we’ve said vows and things already, but I –“

“Racer,” Spot interrupts, his hand coming up to gently hold Race’s wrist. “ _Tony._ I never expected you.” He guides Race’s hand away from his hair, tangling their fingers together instead. “In all honesty, I wasn’t sure you’d like me or I’d like you, given some’a the stories I’d heard from Dave.”

Race laughs. “Dave told me I’d like you.”

“A’course he did,” says Spot, shaking his head with a fond smile. “But yeah, I wasn’t sure, and I wasn’t really excited about marryin’ someone I didn’t know, and you just – you surprised the hell outta me, if I’m honest. You’re ridiculous, you’re a dumbass, but you’re so damn smart and I – fuck, Race. I can’t wait to spend the rest’a my life with you.”

“Sean,” Race says quietly, and there are tears in his eyes and he doesn’t even care. “How do you always know what I want to say before I say it?”

“Practice, sweetness,” replies Spot.

“I’m not gonna lie, sweets, when Jack told me about the proposal, I pitched a fit,” Race says. Spot laughs, a real full laugh this time. “And then you were fucking _there_ , like less than an hour after he brought it up. I don’t know how you managed it. And you were trying to give me an out and I just couldn’t let myself take it, you know?” He shakes his head. “After years of fantasizing about falling in love like a fairy tale, you walk in with that gorgeous face and already knowing my damn nickname and all I could think was how much I’d regret letting you walk away.”

“You should’ve seen your face the first time I called you Race,” Spot says. The hand that isn’t holding Race’s brushes a tear away from Race’s cheek. “You gotta stop crying, sweetness, you’re gonna smudge your glasses.”

“Let’em smudge,” says Race. He kisses Spot, just because he can. “You know when I knew for sure I loved you?”

“When?”

“As much as I tease you about it, when you proposed,” Race tells him. He laughs, and Spot grins back at him. “It feels so strange to say that. But you’d become one of my best friends so fast, and I was excited already to marry you, and then you – you did this whole elaborate thing that you didn’t need to do, just because you knew it would make me happy. And I was just like, _damn_ , _I love this guy_.”

“It took you that long?” Spot asks, shaking his head. “Man, I knew I loved you by your fourth letter. You told me some story about a prank you pulled on Kath with your brothers, and your handwriting was all shaky because you were laughing so hard writing it out. It was so dumb, but I couldn’t get over it. I still have the letter.”

“Oh my god, how do people not know you’re such a softie?” Race says. He’s fully crying now, but smiling so hard it hurts. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, you married me.”

“Shit, Race,” says Spot, and Race thinks he can see the beginnings of some happy tears in Spot’s eyes, too, “I did, didn’t I? I married you. We’re married.”

“We’re married,” Race echoes.

There’s a soft tap on the door, and the newlyweds turn around. Sarah Jacobs is there, a small watch in her hand.

“Time’s up, unfortunately,” Sarah says apologetically. “You ready?”

Spot squeezes Race’s hand. “As we’ll ever be.”

\--

One of Race’s absolute favorite parts of the night is when Aisling asks him to dance with her. They’re a comically mismatched pair – Aisling is eleven and from a very short family, so Race has fully eighteen inches on her in height. He takes full advantage, sweeping his new sister-in-law off of her feet and whirling her around the dance floor. It’s a blast, and they’re both laughing as their dance finishes.

“I’m glad you married Sean,” Aisling says as they stand to the side together, catching their breath.

“Yeah?” says Race. He knows Spot’s sisters like him well enough, but hearing one of them say it out loud is giving him a happy bubbly feeling in his chest.

Aisling nods. “He’s happy. After Mama an’ Papa died, he was so stressed all the time, y’know? Never wanted to play anymore.” She elbows him. “And then _you_ happened.”

“For real?”

“Uh huh.” Aisling isn’t looking at Race, instead watching Spot dance with Fiona. “He smiles all the time now. I think it’s cause’a you.”

“Wow,” says Race. “An’ you don’t mind that I’m gonna be around all the time now?”

“Of course I don’t,” says Aisling. “Neither do Finn or Mae or Nee. You gave us our brother back, dummy. We love you.”

And with that, she skips away.

\--

At the very end of the night, after most people have already gone home or to bed, Race and Spot get one last dance in.

They’re barely dancing, really, just swaying together in the middle of the dance floor with their heads together. Race is distantly aware that his siblings are still around – he can see Kath and Sarah sitting close together at a table in his periphery, and he knows Jack and Davey are dancing together – but he barely notices anything outside of this moment and Spot.

“Hey, sweets,” Race says, his voice soft.

“Yeah, sweetness?” Spot replies, just as softly.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, Race. I love you, too.”


End file.
